The Uptown Girl and the Ukrainian Ironbelly
by Pansy Weasley
Summary: Charlie Weasley is gonna try for the uptown girl.


**The Uptown Girl and the Ukrainian Ironbelly**

Written for Quidditch League Fanfiction Challenge, round 7.

Position: Chaser 2

Team: Montrose Magpies

Task: Write about an encounter with a wild beast, animal, creature, etc

Optional Prompts:

(Song) Uptown Girl by Billy Joel

(Object) Newspaper

(Setting) Romanian dragon sanctuary

Word count: 2647

* * *

Charlie Weasley sighed as he rubbed his eyes and got out of bed. After nine years of getting up at six o'clock on the dot, he thought he would be used to it, but it still didn't come naturally to him. Like many of his brothers, he loved his bed too much.

Luckily for him, his roommate was a morning person. As Charlie got ready, he could hear Jacob bustling about in the kitchen—hopefully making coffee. He put on his flame-resistant robes and walked out of his bedroom.

"Morning, Jake," he called out as he sat down at the kitchen table. The moving pictures on the Daily Prophet caught his eye, and Charlie pulled the paper towards himself. A dark-haired witch graced the bottom right corner of the front page. If Charlie had to guess, he'd say she was around the same age as his youngest brother, Ron.

"Morning," Jake answered, placing a cup of coffee in front of his friend. Charlie grunted his thanks and studied the picture closely, wondering if he knew the girl. He eventually gave up and read the article.

_Pansy Parkinson, the disgraced daughter of Death Eater Peregrine Parkinson, has announced her plans to volunteer at the Romanian dragon sanctuary. She will be travelling there today and staying for one month. _

_As many of you will remember, Miss Parkinson became notorious for trying to hand Harry Potter over to Voldemort during the Battle of Hogwarts. Since then _—_for obvious reasons, she has become persona non grata amongst her peers; even the Slytherins want nothing to do with her. _

_Good riddance to bad rubbish. I'm sure I'm not alone in wishing her a grisly fate at the hands—or more accurately, mouth—of a Hungarian Horntail. _

Charlie rolled his eyes, unsurprised to see Rita Skeeter's name under the article. "Why the Daily Prophet still hires this woman, I don't know. What a load of shite," he said, slamming the paper down on the table and pushing it away from himself as if it was contagious.

Jake glanced at the article and shook his head. "Well, Skeeter's got a point. I've never liked the look of Parkinson. A right pug-faced cow, in my opinion. You want anything for breakfast?"

Charlie shook his head, surprised at the harsh words that came from his mild-mannered friend's mouth. Parkinson had failed in her attempt and was sent to the dungeons, so was all the ire justified? Charlie would save his judgement for when he met her—which could be soon if the article was to be believed.

Jake glanced at him, amusement clear in his eyes. "I know that look. It's the look you get whenever you're about to defend some poor, misunderstood creature. Trust me, my friend, Parkinson is many things, but she isn't misunderstood." He patted Charlie on the shoulder before pulling out a notepad and putting it on the table between them.

_Eurythmics - Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)_

_Michael Sembello - Maniac_

_Billy Joel - Tell Her About It_

_?_

The notebook was the bane of Charlie's existence. Four months ago, a female Ukrainian Ironbelly named Nastya arrived at the sanctuary, and she was the most vicious dragon he'd ever encountered. Scorching on her right side led them to believe that she'd been exiled by her fellow dragons. She'd had nowhere to go, so she came to them. Charlie and the other dragonologists had tried everything to calm her, but nothing had worked. Poetry, novel reading and music had all failed—although they hadn't quite given up on the latter.

When all genres of music from the wizarding world had failed, Muggleborn Jacob had suggested Muggle music instead. So far, they were into 80s music. Nastya had hated song number one enough to breathe fire onto the radio, burning it to a crisp and narrowly avoiding Charlie. Song two caused her to target Charlie and Jacob directly, proving that the song title was an apt description for the angry female. Charlie had been very thankful for his flame-resistant clothing that day.

Song three had gone much better—or at least, no one had been burned and the radio was still in one piece. Nastya had snorted in derision and turned her back on them, but it was a definite improvement. Charlie glanced at Jacob as he took a sip of his coffee. "How about another song from Billy what's his face?"

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Joel?"

"That's the one," Charlie replied. "Any ideas?"

Jacob remained silent for a minute before grinning. "We could play Nastya my mum's favourite." He was so full of enthusiasm that Charlie couldn't help feeling uplifted himself. Maybe today would be the day.

Charlie laughed. "Well, if it's good enough for your mum, I'm sure it will be good enough for our Nastya. What's it called, anyway?"

* * *

An hour later, Charlie left his flat armed with everything he needed for the day and tanked up on coffee. He was feeling positive about his future encounter with Nastya. He guessed that Jake's positive vibe was rubbing off on him at last.

As he arrived at the sanctuary, he saw a familiar dark-haired witch standing outside. She was wearing a black dress with white flowers on. The material looked flimsy and would provide no protection if she got too close to a dragon. Her diamond earrings glittered in the stifling heat, and when Charlie looked down, he noticed her high heels. This had to be Pansy Parkinson. Who else in their right mind would wear such an outfit to a voluntary job at a dragon sanctuary?

Charlie looked around, noticing all the stares of derision the woman was getting. She was either unaware of the heated looks or so used to them that they no longer bothered her. If Charlie was a betting man, he'd place his galleons on the latter option.

"Hey," he said, walking over to the witch. "If I were you, I'd rethink the choice of clothing. Newbies tend to be left with the shitty jobs around here, and you don't want to be wearing that while doing them."

The witch ran her icy blue eyes up and down, cooly assessing him. Her gaze lingered on his practical robes, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. Many men would've cowered, but Charlie Weasley was not one of them. He'd faced dragons from all over the world, and a snooty girl from Slytherin was not going to outface him.

She broke the silence first. "Now let's see. Red hair, freckles and an ugly robe. You must be Charles Weasley."

His eyes didn't leave hers. "I prefer being called Charlie, and this ugly robe protects me from being burned to a crisp by dragons. What's that pretty dress going to do when you're told to clean up dragon dung?"

Pansy snorted. "Oh, my pretty dress and I won't be cleaning up dragon dung. I can promise you that. But thank you for the compliment, Weasley."

A colleague of Charlie's cleared his throat as he walked over to them. "Miss Parkinson, come this way, please." He was an officious man with a bald head and large, circular glasses. Parkinson towered over him in her heels, and the man eyed her warily as if she might attack him at any minute.

Parkinson sneered at him as Charlie started to walk away. "Hey, Weasley!" Charlie turned back to look at her. "I'll say one thing for you, you're better looking than your brother."

Charlie snorted, not caring if it sounded unattractive. "I didn't think I'd be your type. Are you getting tired of all your presents from your uptown boys?"

"They've been a little thin on the ground recently." Her voice never faltered, but Charlie saw a flicker of something he couldn't describe in her eyes. She had the look of a caged animal—unsure and out of her natural habitat. For a strange moment, he felt sorry for her. Before he could dwell on that for too long, she squared her shoulders and slipped her mask back on. "No doubt I'll see you around, Weasley."

"Can't wait, Parkinson." It didn't come out as sarcastic as he intended. A hand on his shoulder jolted him back to reality, and he turned to find Jacob smirking at him.

"Sorry to tear you away, but we have a dragon to serenade."

* * *

Nastya still had the ability to take Charlie's breath away every time he saw her, and today was no different. Her deep red eyes watched them as they approached. She flexed her impressive wings threateningly as if reminding them of what she was capable of. Like they could ever forget. Nastya's metallic grey scales shone in the sun, and at that moment, she was truly the most beautiful thing Charlie had ever seen. He was looking danger in the eye, and he'd never felt so alive.

He approached her tentatively, never taking his eyes off hers. Nastya remained silent, not moving a muscle, which Charlie took as a positive sign. In the early days, she'd have breathed fire already, forcing him to run for cover. Nastya was learning to trust him, slowly but surely.

Her eyes flickered over to Jacob as he set up the radio. She made a sound similar to a snort and rested on her front. Nastya's long, hard as nails talons tapped at the ground, making the earth around her rattle. Charlie could almost hear her say "I'm waiting." He took out his camera to capture the moment.

When the song started, Nastya snorted again and opened her eyes wider. She glared at Charlie as she dug her talons in deeper, leaving a dent in the ground. Charlie maintained eye contact and held his ground.

Just then, he heard his colleagues shouting to someone. "Miss, you shouldn't be out here!" Charlie wanted to look away, but he couldn't afford to lower his guard around Nastya.

The dragon looked away first, freeing him from the power of her fiery glare. She looked over in the direction of the shout, her eyes landing on Pansy Parkinson. Charlie swore as he ran over to the crazy girl with a death wish. Pansy was still wearing her dress, and her earrings glittered in the sun. The only changes to her outfit were the flat boots she was currently wearing. She appeared tiny without her heels, and Charlie felt a sudden urge to protect her as best as he could.

Nastya got there before him. "Duck!" he yelled at the stubborn Slytherin, but she ignored him and walked closer to the dragon. "Do you have a bloody death wish?"

Red eyes met icy blue defiant eyes as the two females stared at each other, sizing each other up. Charlie watched in amazement as the pint-sized young woman stared back at Nastya. Even he wouldn't have dared to do such a thing without the protection of his robes.

Charlie approached hesitantly. He could hear Pansy speaking to Nastya, and the Ironbelly responded positively instead of giving her usual fiery greeting. Charlie didn't want to take any chances, though. "Someone get her some fire-resistant robes," he shouted to a close-by dragonhand.

"Doesn't look like she needs them to be honest, mate," Jacob murmured. He sounded just as awestruck as Charlie himself was. It dawned on Charlie that the music had stopped and they were enveloped in silence. All he could hear were Pansy's soft murmurs and the shouts of surprise from his colleagues.

"For Merlin's sake," he muttered, taking off his cloak and draping it around Parkinson. The girl took her eyes away from Nastya to fix them on Charlie. He braced himself for a scathing retort and was rewarded with a smile instead.

"What are you going to do if she chooses to burn you to a crisp?"

"I guess I'll take my chances like you just did," he retorted. He glanced warily at Nastya, but she wasn't paying him any attention. Who knew that all she'd needed was another female? Sadly, there weren't many women who worked at the sanctuary. Certainly, none of them had received this reaction from Nastya when they'd dared to come near her. "Why'd you do it? You could've been seriously injured or even killed." He grimaced when he realised how much he'd sounded like his mother.

Pansy shrugged. "I guess I'm past caring what happens to me now. My friends hate me, my father is in Azkaban and my mother did a runner as soon as the shit hit the fan."

Her swearing took him by surprise. The pureblood girls that he'd gone to school with had looked down their nose at him whenever he used bad language, and he'd expected the same from Pansy.

The bigger surprise was how Nastya reacted to Pansy's words. The dragon moved closer and nuzzled Pansy as if she'd understood every word that had been said. With no hesitation, Pansy petted the dragon. "I guess we're two wild creatures turned away by our kind, aren't we, Nastya?"

The dragon snorted and nuzzled her again. Pansy turned to Charlie and smirked. "I heard your colleagues talking about Nastya and your plans to play her 80s music. I had to save her from the torture."

Charlie rolled his eyes and absentmindedly tried to pet Nastya. She backed away from him and fixed him with a warning glare. "What does a pureblood princess like you know about 80s Muggle music?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Quite a lot since I began visiting Muggle bars. The glares in the Leaky Cauldron got a bit much, even for me," she added as an afterthought. "What were you hoping to make her do? Put on her dancing shoes and ask you to take her for a spin around the dance floor? No wonder the poor girl was so pleased to see me. I'm the only normal one here."

"Oi!" Charlie replied indignantly. "We were desperate and out of ideas. She didn't respond to us the way most dragons do."

"Miss Parkinson! Step away from the dragon immediately, or I will have to ask you to leave the dragon sanctuary." The short man from earlier was almost upon them, and Pansy stepped away from Nastya with a sigh.

"Guess it's back to cleaning up shit for me."

Charlie found himself feeling sorry for the girl. "You're a natural with Nastya. If you promise to wear suitable clothes, I'll put in a good word for you."

Pansy considered him for a moment, and then she held her hand out. "Deal."

He took her hand, trying to ignore the tingling sensation that ran through his body at her touch. Her hand was small and soft to the touch—such a contrast to his own.

All too soon, she moved her hand away and took off his cloak. He shook his head. "You keep it. I'll get another one."

She smiled and murmured her thanks before turning around and walking away. Charlie watched her leave, fascinated by the straightness of her back and the subtle sway of her hips. He didn't even notice the snickering until Jacob started singing.

"_You know he can't afford to buy her pearls_

_But maybe … "_

"Pack it in," he snapped, nudging his roommate and glaring at the rest of his colleagues. They stopped laughing and returned to work, making the odd comment when they thought he wasn't listening. Charlie did his best to ignore them and focus on Nastya.

The Ironbelly watched him closely, looking at him with trust for the first time since she'd arrived. She blinked at him and moved her head. It almost looked like she was nodding at him.

Then it was settled. He'd keep his promise to Pansy and put in a good word for her. And if she stuck around for long enough, he was going to try for the uptown girl.


End file.
